


If Anything is Sacred

by SassySnowperson



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/F, Ideological Conflicts, Love, Reunion Sex, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassySnowperson/pseuds/SassySnowperson
Summary: "You left—""I left the New Republic, lover, I never left you."
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Pilot Who Stayed With The New Republic/Their Resistance Pilot Lover
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	If Anything is Sacred

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icandrawamoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/gifts).



"Oh, I couldn't let it go for less than forty-five credits," the merchant said, crossing her arms as her head-tendrils twitched solemnly.

Xanae looked at the small flowered brooch, not worth more than thirty-five credits on a good day, and started running an internal assessment on the likelihood of getting the merchant down past thirty. The merchant clearly thought her an inexperienced barterer. If Xanae opened her counter-offer with the common trader-tongue greeting, the merchant would likely backtrack at least five credits out of embarrassment alone.

Xanae readied her counter-offer, but just as she was about to launch into her greeting, more details reluctantly flickered into her awareness. The frayed edge of the stall's awning. The blue sheen across ~~on~~ the merchant's normal emerald-green skin. The humming electric drone and soft gurgle back behind the tent-flap, which probably meant an egg-nursery.

The merchant was poor, hungry, and expecting.

Xanae stifled a sigh, and widened her eyes in her best 'gullible mark' impression. "I'll give you fifty if you've got a nice box for it."

The merchant brightened, cooing, "Oh, a gift, of course!" She rummaged and held up a three-credit wooden box. "Sixty-five and I'll wrap the brooch in this fine Treesheart Chest. It's said that the wood that comes from the Treesheart keeps lovers safe and brings them home."

Xanae grit her teeth. At least the merchant had style. It would be embarrassing to fake this much empty-headed innocence for a bumbling novice. "Oh that would be lovely."

A good mind but a weak heart, her mother had chided her. Her father had protested that generosity was a strength, not a weakness. That was why her mom handled the orders, while her dad ran the deliveries. Easy to be generous when the goods were already paid for. It was also why Xanae hadn't taken over the family business. Her sister had been better suited, and Xanae had found a different place where her logical eye and ready generosity could serve her well.

The New Republic Fleet.

Her father was the one who had been confused by that point, but her mother had nodded solemnly. "It will give you the structure you need, and you will give it competency and kindness alike. It will not be easy, but it may be good."

Xanae sighed as she tucked the wooden box the merchant presented with a flourish into her pocket and continued her stroll through the marketplace. It had proven to be a harder service than she'd ever dreamed—full of unrest and discontent and the terrifying sensation that all her parent's generation had fought for was fading away.

She took a deep breath to clear her head. No. This was her leave. She was going to walk the market, enjoy the sights and smells and sounds, and not worry about the fate of the universe for two seconds.

A short figure fell in next to her. Without any input from her conscious mind, Xanae's stride adjusted automatically, shortening a little out of long habit. The figure next to her lengthened theirs to match, following an all too familiar dance. They easily kept pace together.

"Lovely day, yeah?" the person at her elbow said and Xanae's brain abruptly caught up with her body.

She stopped walking. "Trell?" Her voice came out wavering, full of disbelief.

Trellasta Montefiguero Nochinda IV grinned up at Xanae. She had nearly too much name for her tiny stature, but her personality let her bear it with ease. "Shhh. I'm in disguise," she said, her voice full of irrepressible humor. "Call me The Golden Bantha." She reached up and tugged on her short curls, currently gleaming an artificial shimmering gold in the market's fading summer's light.

"Right," Xanae snapped in automatic banter. "Because that's not suspicious."

"No, but standing here is, come on!" Trell grabbed her by the elbow and started maneuvering her through the crowd again. "I'm back in New Republic territory on a quick mission to—"

"Stop." Xanae's voice cracked the word. "Don't tell me anything I'm going to have to report."

Like she wasn't supposed to report Trell herself. Command would want to know about a deserter showing up and attempting to engage with current New Republic Forces. But Xanae was never going to turn Trell in and they both knew it.

"Okay," Trell said softly, her smile turning a little sad. "That's not the important part. The important part is that I was close enough to visit, so I did."

"You shouldn't have. The risk—" Xanae's throat caught on the words, as the scrolling list of consequences washed over her. Her Trell, captured, condemned, broken.

"Mine to take," Trell said, gently chiding. "And entirely worth it, for the chance to see you."

Xanae swallowed. "We agreed—"

Trell rolled her eyes. "No, you decided. But we're not going to argue about that here. How long's your leave?"

"Forty-eight hours," Xanae answered, with a twinge of guilt that maybe she shouldn't. "Forty-three now, I suppose."

Trell smiled. "Good. Come on, I got a room." Xanae let herself be steered through a few crowded market stalls, down a back alley, and up the stairs at the back of a lodging-house. Xanae cast a critical eye over the place. Front and back door, and up to six exits if you counted the windows. Trell had always been good at work in hostile territory.

Xanae's chest ached with the sharp reminder that, for Trell, that's exactly what the New Republic was now.

Trell nudged Xanae through the back door on the upper story, and into a small room. Xanae looked around. The lodging room was cozy and warm, with a wide window looking out over a balcony. The balcony was stuffed with native tropical plants. Their wide leaves blocked the view, and the heady scent of their flowers filled the room. Useful. A small 'fresher sat off to the side of the room. Also useful. The bed looked soft.

Xanae wasn't ready to think about the usefulness of the bed. She let her eyes finish their circuit and they landed on Trell again. Same round cheeks and mischievous eyes. Her hair was shorter than the last time Xanae had seen it, and while the gold hair was new, it wasn't a surprise. The only truly rare color to grace the top of Trell's head was her natural dark brown. It had been pink fading to purple, the last time Xanae had seen it.

When she had been saying goodbye.

Trell let Xanae look as long as she wanted. Trell had always been good at understanding when Xanae needed a minute to take things in. "Your assessment?" she asked, once Xanae's eyes fixed on hers.

"Good room, six exits, aesthetically pleasing and tactically sound," Xanae answered. After a beat, she continued, "Reason for meeting unknown."

"Oh, Stars and the Black Between, you're lucky you're cute," Trell said, before going up on her toes, wrapping her arms around Xanae's neck, and kissing her intently. 

Xanae was distantly aware that she should probably be stopping this. There were several conversations they needed to have first. Trell had left. Trell had made her choice, and it hadn't been to stay with Xanae. Whatever beautiful thing that they had built as Trell-and-Xanae was gone.

Except, it didn't feel very gone, with Trell's mouth warm and sweet and opening for Xanae's tongue, with all the pleasing curves of Trell's body pressing up against Xanae's own.

"You left—" Xanae tried, gasping when Trell finally pulled back.

"I left the New Republic, lover, I never left you." Trell said like that explained everything. She insisted, emphatic, "I would never leave you." Then she kissed the curve where Xanae's shoulder met her neck and Xanae let herself fall over into distraction again. She wrapped her arms around Trell's waist and nearly moaned with how good it felt to have her close.

Still, underneath that gladness a nagging discomfort persisted and pestered despite the comforting warmth of Trell pressed against her. The alert kept sounding in her mind, blaring louder each time she tried to lose herself in soft kisses and Trell's firm embrace.

Xanae took a step back, her hands still resting on Trell's hips as she said, "You left. You defected from the New Republic Fleet." Xanae had trouble speaking for a moment. She and Trell had sworn the same vow: protect and serve the New Republic. 

_If anything is sacred, let it be our word._ Said by her family to conclude every deal, said in Xanae's heart when she committed to the New Republic. It was unfathomable to Xanae that someone would break that oath. Until Trell had, and Xanae's heart along with it.

Trell's jaw twitched, and she stepped back, out of Xanae's hands entirely. "Yes. And?" she asked belligerently.

"You made a clean cut with your old life. And now I'm supposed to believe that somehow, that didn't include me?" Xanae forced the words out, noticing as Trell flinched. Xanae hated she was causing that pain. But she had lived with her own for months, and if this wasn't addressed, it would fester.

"Of _course_ it didn't include you! And the New Republic broke their promises first." Trell kept her voice low enough that it wouldn't carry out the open window. Her anger showed in other ways: in the hiss on her 's' sounds and the darkening of her eyes. "Serve and protect, I promised, and they made me stand by and watch while innocents were slaughtered!"

It was Xanae's turn to flinch. "We didn't have jurisdiction."

"You think that matters?" Trell spat. "People were dying. The New Republic didn't let me save them. The Resistance does. You want to know why I left? I want to know how you can possibly _stay_." 

Trell's dark brown eyes flashed. Maybe it was no more than the gold of her hair reflecting in her gaze, but in that moment, she looked like nothing so much as an avenging warrior out of legend, touched by some god or another for the purpose of bringing justice. 

Xanae bowed her head in a strange mix of acknowledgement, shame, and awe of that certain purpose. "I don't want innocents to die. But the New Republic is a thing we are creating together. If we build it into something that stretches its arm of justice out to places that have not welcomed it, then we build a terrible thing. And if I leave, I say it is a thing that is no longer worth trying to shape. I will not give up on our government."

"Leaving my commission doesn't mean I've given up on the New Republic," Trell said, sounding exasperated. 

"It's what it would mean if I left," Xanae persisted. "I don't understand how the same can not be true of you."

"The Resistance is how I fight for fair and just government. It puts me in the place where I can do the most good. But, baby," Trell's face had softened again, and she took a little step forward. "The New Republic military leadership betrayed me, you didn't. I gave up on them, not on you."

Xanae swallowed hard. "I miss having you in the sky with me." 

"Yeah," Trell said with a wistful smile. "You, me, and the black. I've missed it too. I've missed _you._ I never gave up on you.But I guess I never asked…" Trell looked nervous in a way that was foreign on her brash, confidant face. When she spoke again, her words were clear, but Xanae could hear uncertainty underline them. "Was choosing the Resistance enough to make you give up on me?"

"No." The word tore out of Xanae like a feral, primal thing. Trell was always going to be the person Xanae wanted most: in the sky or in her arms. "Never. You left. It broke my heart. But it's always been your heart to break."

"Oh, baby," Trell breathed, a little smile coming over her face. "Then get over here and kiss me, would you?"

The black had always been where things made sense to Xanae. She was home there, where the relentless calculation of her trader-trained mind and the steel and reflexes she had trained into her body coalesced into beautiful movement. She could never manage to feel that easy on the ground, until the first time Trell had kissed her. Then Xanae had learned that she could fly without ever lifting her feet off the ground.

Xanae moved forward, capturing Trell's lips again. Xanae felt Trell's smile against her lips, and then with a tightening in her abs and a confident hitch of muscles, Trell launched herself into Xanae's hold, her muscled legs suddenly around around Xanae's waist. For one dizzying moment their gravity lurched, but Xanae braced herself and steadied them. Trell giggled and Xanae kissed her again, palms curving over the delicious shape of Trell's ass.

"Promising," Trell said with a little laugh. She moved in what was probably supposed to be a sensual gyration but instead wound up being an adorable little wiggle.

Xanae pivoted and leaned, until Trell's back was pressed against the wall, soft moans escaping Trell's mouth as Xanae pinned her and kissed her deeply, long and hard. It had always made Xanae chuckle, how much kinetic, impulsive Trell loved being held in place. 

By the right person, Xanae could hear Trell answer. For the right reason. 

Xanae kissed Trell and let the heat build slowly, feeling at home in her skin and in herself in a way she hadn't since the day Trell left. She revelled in the feeling, and in the feeling of Trell's body pressed along hers. She kissed and kissed until Trell was writhing against the wall, her legs trembling around Xanae's waist, her words turning into whines and moans. 

Xanae broke the kiss, leaning back to look at Trell. Trell leaned her head back against the wall, and said, "Blackest stars, you really know how to show a girl—" 

That was all Xanae let her say before pulling away from the wall, taking two long strides and tumbling Trell down on the bed. Trell gave a breathless gasp, which turned seamlessly into a laugh as she bounced against the mattress. Xanae wiggled up and reached for the fasteners on Trell's trousers, stopping just short as she raised an eyebrow at Trell.

"Oh, yes, please," Trell said, a little thread of desperation to her voice as she hitched her hips towards Xanae's fingers.

Xanae was relieved to find she still knew Trell's body. Still knew the curves of her hips, still knew the sweet, musky taste of her, still knew how to stroke and circle and make her moan. Xanae had worried that their time apart would mean Trell was a stranger. But here, buried between Trell's thighs and working her until she was purring like an engine ready for liftoff, Xanae felt her pilot's confidence slide into place. She knew her girl. Knew how to treat her right.

Trell came with a laugh. She always had, and Xanae had loved it from the start, the way she chortled as her thighs clenched and her back arched. She greeted every orgasm like it was a surprise gift the universe had given her, and she never stopped being delighted.

Trell took her turn with Xanae, her pilot's fingers working Xanae's body with deft surety and a few terrible jokes about making sure Xanae saw the stars. Xanae didn't say anything, but she didn't need to, just came unraveled in Trell's arms. She buried her face in the crook of Trell's neck as pleasure took her, gasping with a joy so sweet it sliced like a knife. 

They were quiet for a long moment, buried and entwined with each other. 

"I missed you," Trell said softly. 

Xanae set her nose more firmly against the join of neck and shoulder. She breathed in the sweat-sex-sweet scent of her love as that bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow wound through her. "I did too. More than words could say." 

_'How could you do this to us?'_ she managed not to say. Their lives had taken different paths. At least they still had this, together. 

_For how much longer?_

More words not spoken. Instead, she just said, "I don't want to let you go." 

"Well that's going to be really awkward in forty hours or so," Trell answered, falling to humor as her familiar first instinct. She reached out and smoothed over Xanae's hair, turning to kiss her temple. "You're not letting me go. You're letting me be me. But I'm always going to be with you, babe. Even if not physically. You're not getting rid of me that easily." 

Xanae leaned back, and gave Trell a long look. She took a deep breath, and exhaled all her anxieties, all her betrayal, all her feelings of loneliness and loss. "I trust you," she said, "to do good, even if it looks different from my good." 

Trell nodded. "And I'm trusting you to do the same. You work inside the system, I'll work outside it, and between the two of us, we might just save the New Republic yet. And if you ever get fed up with the pencil pushers…well, I'd love to have you on my wing, again." 

"I'll keep that in mind," Xanae said, knowing she never would take Trell up on that offer. 

"I know, I know, the stars will go dark before you break your word," Trell said. She stopped, and looked at Xanae seriously. "I want to give you something. It's not…" Trell made a face, words apparently not coming easily to her. "I'm not doing this because I think you'll…" 

Trell made an irritated noise. She seemed to give up on words, just rolled out of Xanae's arms (despite Xanae's noises of protest, which she soothed with a handwave) and went over to her bag. She came back holding a small necklace. "Small enough to be within regulations." Trell said, holding it out. "I checked." 

"It's lovely," Xanae said, as she reached out to take it. "Why all the fuss with giving it to me?" 

Trell took a deep breath. "Because it's tied to a tracker I had put in my arm." She held out her arm, where a new tattoo wound around her forearm. "You'll always be able to find me." 

"I'm not leaving the New Republic," Xanae said firmly, handling the necklace carefully. She didn't want to reject the gift, but she didn't want it misunderstood, either. 

"I know. But I hated the idea that you wouldn't be able to find me. It's one way only, you won't be feeding any information to the Resistance. Scan it, you'll see. But if something ever happened…I want you to be able to find me." 

"I could use it to turn you in," Xanae said, unclasping the necklace and holding it out to Trell. 

Trell didn't hesitate in taking it, and helping put it around Xanae's neck. "You'd only do that if you thought I wasn't doing the right thing anymore. And if it came to that, I'd want you to." She leaned in and kissed the back of Xanae's neck, and Xanae felt a little shiver go over her. She felt the weight of Trell's trust in the chain, as it fell along her back and shoulders, small pendant hanging just below her sternum.

"I've got a gift for you, too," Xanae said. "I'm afraid it doesn't have any practical significance. I just thought of you." 

"You didn't know I was coming," Trell said, skeptically. 

"And yet." Xanae stood and walked over to her pack. She found the brooch and the box she had paid too much for. "It's not really a surprise, I'm always thinking of you." 

Trell gave Xanae a crooked smile as she took the box. "Only you would apologize for being the most wildly romantic person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting." She trailed her fingers over the boxes lid. "Nice box." 

"Treesheart. According to the merchant, it's supposed to keep lovers safe and bring them home." Xanae got nervous suddenly, worried that Trell might think that she wasn't showing Trell the same understanding that Trell had showed her. "Don't worry, I don't think it has real significance. Just salesman patter. I understand you're not coming home." 

"So close, and yet, so far," Trell said, still not opening the box. "You're my home, darling. I'm always coming back to you." She opened the lid. "Ooh, I love the color!" 

"Wait," Xanae shook her head. "You just…go back a sentence." 

Trell looked up, and gave a knowing smile. "We belong together. And as long as you're here, I'm coming back to you. I'm going to make the most of every stolen moment with you, until the universe bends in such a way that we can stay together again." 

"Okay," Xanae swallowed, stepping forward to lay her hand against Trell's cheek, fixing the feeling in her memory. "I'll be waiting." 

* * *

It was pure luck Xanae hadn't been on Hosnia. It had been an escort assignment nobody else had wanted—three support fighters to accompany the opportunistic owner of a mine that the New Republic wanted to hook for a supply contract. He was imperious and demanding and it was the sort of political gruntwork she hated. But she kept her head down and did her duty, and so she watched Hosnia burn from afar. 

"Perfect," breathed the mine owner, a malicious smile on his face. He turned to Xanae, "I need you to get me to Port Islay. I have some...contacts there that are in a position to give me a very beneficial contract." 

Port Islay was home to the First Order. This man was watching the New Republic burn and all he could think of was profit. Xanae blinked, feeling ice grip her heart as she turned and walked out of the salon, the man squawking about duty behind her. 

She poked her head into the local police station, recommended they arrest the mine owner as a collaborator in the destruction of the New Republic. She had no idea if they would, and no idea if the charges would stick, but after a quick muttered conversation with her two fellow pilots, they were off-planet within the hour. 

The necklace had plugged into the nav system smoothly. It was a surprise, really. Two years it had lived around her neck, and Xanae had half figured whatever tracker was in it would have burned out by now. She had never used it. 

But now…she'd rather be on the side of the people trying to fix things. 

The tracker led her and her squad, straight and true, to a jungle, where they were promptly nearly shot out of the sky. 

"Trell," Xanae gasped quickly blurted over the comms, trying somehow to appear nonthreatening in an X-Wing. "I'm looking for Trellasta Montefiguero Nochinda IV. She'll vouch for me." 

Xanae caught half of a skeptical muttered conversation, before one of the voices said, clear enough that she could hear it, "She's gotta actually know Trell. Who else could get that whole name right? Get her to landing." 

And then they were cleared to land. 

And then there was Trell, her shoulder-length curls a vivid violet, laughing as she swung her way into Xanae's arms. 

"I was so worried you were on Hosnia," Trell said, nearly crying. 

Xanae didn't say anything, just stroked Trell's hair and shoulders and tried to convince herself that Trell was real, and here, and Xanae didn't need to let her go again. 

"What are you doing here?" Trell said. "I figured the New Republic would need you more than ever." 

"New Republic's dead," Xanae said roughly. "It's all going to turn into a power grab between ten thousand factions. I didn't swear to serve that." 

Trell's expression grew complicated. "Grim. I'm not sure how I feel about you being the pessimist." 

Xanae said, more pleading than she would have liked, "Does it matter? I'm here." 

Trell looked up and smiled, brilliant and true. "Yes. You are. And now we're going to fix things together. I'll be the optimist for a bit. Important part of the relationship, sharing responsibilities. You'll see. The New Republic has been beaten, not broken. There's something still worth fighting for. And now we'll fight together." 

Xanae looked at Trell, shining with purpose, bright and lovely and true. She could almost believe it, coming from Trell's mouth. Xanae didn't have faith in the New Republic, didn't have faith in universal justice. But she did still have faith in Trell. "Together."

It was a promise. A vow. _If anything is sacred, let it be this._

Trell caught Xanae's eyes, and Xanae could see she understood the truth behind it. Could hear all the words Xanae didn't say. She smiled, and reached out her hand. Xanae took it. 

"Come on," Trell said, gesturing her head back toward the main base. "Let's meet the General. You'll love her."


End file.
